Life, Love and Donuts
by Toa Karou
Summary: Formerly First Encounter. A series of one-shots based on the Pepperony Month prompts, with my own twist on the challenge. Rated for mild swearing. Chapter 3: A second take on 'Addictions'
1. First Encounter

Yeah yeah, I know I said I'm on hiatus until after my exams, but I couldn't help it. The Pepperony Month Challenge is ongoing, I can't participate yet I have ideas…

By the way, the conversation below in italics was supposed to be an iPhone conversation (which can be seen at ridevendor LJ) Unfortunately, is horrible by disallowing images. Thus I had to type everything out, which kind of stinks. For optimal reading experience, please view this story over at ridevendor * livejournal * com/19284 * html (replace * with . and remove spaces)

_AU. Pepper used to work at Hammer Industries. How did she meet Tony?_

**Disclaimer: If I owned Iron Man, I would own more than 2 DVDs and a movie novelization. Maybe a helmet…?**

* * *

The first time they met was in a pub. It had been ages since she last stepped foot into one, but she needed a drink, after nearly being fired from her job. She must have looked absolutely miserable, sitting in that dark corner all alone without company. On her second glass, he approached her.

"Hey there. Need some company, beautiful?"

Ugh, not another horny asshole. She braced her forehead against the counter, waving a hand to shoo off the intruder.

"Go away."

The man didn't obey, instead he drew up a chair and sat next to her, prying the glass of unfinished beer out of her hands.

"No way, you're way too buzzed to be alone now. What's a lady like you doing here getting drunk off your ass?"

"I'm not drunk."

"You're a horrible liar, you know that? Now spill."

Reluctantly, she looked up at the man. The place was just dark enough to mask his facial features, but she could make out a really expensive suit (which probably costs most than her month's salary) and a hairstyle which probably cost just as much. A rich man, then.

"What would you know?"

"I wouldn't know if you don't tell me. I promise not to make any moves on you."

Her half-drunken mind decided it would be a fantastic idea to pour all of her feelings onto a complete stranger. So she did. She ranted all about how she, a low-level administrative assistant at Hammer Industries, caught a calculation error in a financial projection document which would have cost the company millions but was brushed off by all of her superiors. She had nearly lost her job when she went up to Mr Hammer's office personally to bring the issue to him since he was the one who crunched the numbers, only to get her own job back when Hammer ordered her supervisor to hire her back since 'nothing happened today'. Of course, he completely ignored the mistake, claiming that he never made mistakes.

"Hammer obviously doesn't know what he has..." The man muttered when she was done venting her frustration, taking a sip of her beer(!). He was about to speak again when his phone vibrated from within his suit, blasting out some kind of heavy metal tune. He answered the phone (which was of a model she had never seen before), before breathing a heavy sigh and ending the call.

"I need to go. Call me if you need anything?" He quickly scribbled his number on a paper napkin nearby, handing it to her before jetting out of the pub.

Their next contact was a few days later.

_SHORT MESSAGE SERVICE LOG_

_SENT: -Hey…-_

_RECEIVED: -You're that woman from the pub right?-_

___SENT: _-Yeah-

_RECEIVED: -Was expecting you to call earlier, they usually do-_

_SENT: -Sorry, haven't had much time to chat lately. Work is a killer-_

_RECEIVED: -You're with Hammer right?-_

_SENT: -I used to-_

_RECEIVED: -You quit?-_

_SENT: -Fired. They finally found the mistake and blamed it on everyone who saw the projections-_

_RECEIVED: -Always knew Hammer was a fool, but this is ridiculous. You deserve better-_

_RECEIVED: -Come work for me-_

_SENT: -What?-_

_RECEIVED: -There's a job opening with your name on it. Literally. You're prime candidate for it-_

_SENT: -Wait, I don't even know who you are or who you work for…-_

_RECEIVED: -Call me Tony. Come to Starbucks Pacific Coast Highway-_

_RECEIVED: -Wear something nice-_

Despite her better judgement, she decided to meet this Tony anyway. She put on her most professional outfit and left her apartment.

15 minutes later, she arrived at the store, ordered a cup of cappucino and sat at a window seat. While waiting for her potential employer, she pondered the insanity and recklessness of this meeting. Here she was, waiting for someone whom she met while drunk (but clearly not enough for her to forget the encounter) to hire her, just hours after she got fired from what she thought was a relatively stable job. She didn't even know who he was, what he did or what he even looked like. Maybe she should just decline the job offer and search for another job that would accept her BA in accounting.

A silver Audi pulled up outside the store, attracting a small crowd of onlookers. She sucked in a breath and composed herself. If the man's clothes from earlier were any indication of his wealth, that could very well be him.

The door to Starbucks swung open, admitting a sharply-dressed man who looked remarkably like Tony Stark, the CEO of Sta- Oh, damn.

"Hey there, almost didn't recognise you." Stark took a seat at her table, ignoring the star-struck stares from the other customers.

"If you pull anything funny, Mr Stark, I'll have you know that I have a bottle of pepper spray in my bag and I'm not afraid to use it."

"Wow, you really are the world's worst liar."

She rolled her eyes, taking out her documents from the handbag she carried.

"Here's my resume, my degre-"

Stark swatted the handbag out of her hands, grinning.

"I don't need to see those documents to see you're more than qualified, Miss..."

"Potts. Virginia Potts, Mr Stark."

"You don't look like a Virginia to me. Let's call you Pepper. Do you like Pepper?"

She scowled at him. "No."

"You'll get used to it. What do you say to becoming my PA? I need someone who can't lie to me. Great salary I'll probably come up with in a drunken haze, definitely beats unemployment."

She gaped at him, unbelieving what he had just said. Across the table, he snatched her cup of cappucino, sipping from it before grimincing from the bitterness and pouring a few sachets of sugar into it. As he savoured the taste of sugar water, he smiled as she seemed to have finally reached a decision.

"Okay."


	2. Addictions 1

After much deliberation, I have decided to attempt the rest of the prompts for the month. Yeah, I'm working my way through the month slowly, don't want to saturate this site with too many one-shots of the same nature. Not all will be about Pepperony (like this one), but I promise I'll bring Pepper in!

Also, I'm kinda preparing for a major national exam right now.

Beta-ed by the awesome KamenRiderKoori!

_Note: I have never been to Randy's Donuts before. I live on the other side of the globe where donuts are considered diabetes-inducing. Also, this is my first attempt at second person POV._

* * *

The store has just opened. You look upon the vacant café, telling yourself that it'll be another wonderful day for business. As you begin setting up the counter for the day, you hear the familiar sound of the door opening.

"Welcome to Randy's Donuts, how can I help you?" You chime cheerfully, as you have done for countless other customers at this world famous establishment. Distracted by your colleague bringing in a fresh batch of donuts for sale, you do not look up at the new customer, who is stumbling slowly towards the counter.

Out of the corner of your eye, you note that the customer is wearing red all over, with faint mechanical whirring sounds echoing in the otherwise empty cafe.

"Oh, good morning Mr Stark. Didn't see you there. The usual then?"

The metal-clad Iron Man nods, trying not to create too much movement. Ah, the telltale signs of another one of his hangovers.

"Another wild party last night?"

"Yeah, that. Just give me a box of the good stuff and I'll go. Some Advil would be great too. Do you have Advil donuts?"

You laugh at his hungover mumblings, packing a box of a dozen jelly donuts for him. "Sorry Mr Stark, we're fresh out. But we've got the next best thing." Satisfied with the neatly-packed box, you place it on the counter. He begins sluggishly groping his suit, searching for his wallet. Well, that won't work, you think, if his suit doesn't even have pockets to keep his wallet in.

"No need to pay, sir. Last time you came, you've tipped us more than enough to run this place for the next 3 years."

"When was that?"

"Yesterday morning."

He blinks in confusion several times. Yup, he definitely has no recollection of that, you think in amusement. You tap the box lightly, bringing his attention to his beloved donuts.

"We've been receiving your regular 'donations' for a while now, at least five times a week. You're a regular here, so we'll say it's on the house, alright?" You smile. The superhero grunts in reply, grabbing the box and tucking it under his arm, exiting the store. Through the glass windows, you see him firing up his boot rocket things, propelling him through the air before you hear a faint 'thud' from the roof. No doubt he is in his favourite seat right now – in the giant donut on the rooftop. You're not complaining though, this definitely brings in more customers who want to visit the store that the famous Iron Man frequents.

Some people are addicted to alcohol, others to drugs and cigarettes. But Mr Stark, clearly, is addicted to donuts. Jelly-filled ones.


	3. Addictions 2

Sorry, couldn't help it. After I typed the first one out, I had another idea for Addictions.

By the way, thanks for all who reviewed/favourited/followed this so far! All of you really made my day(s) by flooding my email inbox =D

* * *

He'll never get tired of this.

As he cut through the air, the adrenalin pumping through his bloodstream, he savoured the feel of freedom. Freedom to do as he pleased without trouble. Freedom to fly in ways no other human (other than Rhodey) would ever experience. Freedom to _LIVE_.

The rush of the air around him was tempting him to raise his faceplate and feel the wind in his face. Of course, JARVIS advised him against it (that killjoy). It probably isn't fun to have your face destroyed by air movement at high speed anyway. (Another reason why the Ariel Atom wasn't a part of his 'cars that can go really fast' collection.)

Ever since he became Iron Man, these flights off the coast of Malibu were a nightly routine of his. The intoxicating feel of free flight was addictive, prompting him to step into his armour whenever he needed space or stress relief. The feeling of raw power beneath his feet and in his palms never ceased to fuel his ego with the knowledge that _he_ made this possible, and no one else could.

Really, how many geniuses had the money and resources to create something like this? Most millionaires were too busy seducing everything that moved, or buying out entire continents. He knew better. Well, at least he does now. What's the point of being both a genius and a billionaire if you don't make a metal suit of armour that can fly? Idiots.

Seeking more thrills, he angled his boots toward the ground below him, allowing the suit to climb higher into the clouds. The last time he had tried this, the Mark II had iced up and shut down his suit's systems. This time, he was certain nothing of the sort would happen. Unless he overlooked something.

Again.

As the suit climbed higher and higher, he could feel the flight suit he wore within the metal casing pressurizing, maintaining blood flow to his vital organs. Warm oxygen gas was injected right into his nostrils, prompting a sneeze out of him. Okay, that might need work. Other than that, the new improvements he made from Mark III onwards seemed to be working well. The moon was getting closer as he broke through the 20km mark and into the stratosphere.

"Tony, if you're quite done with your ego trip, I need you back at the mansion to look over a few things." A familiar voice spoke through the helmet's internal speakers.

Bad timing, Potts, he thought. I'm about to make history as the First Superhero In Space. He ignored Pepper's message, continuing to speed through the stratosphere.

After a minute of silence, Pepper seemed to realise that the man-child named Tony Stark wasn't returning to the mansion. How did he know? His repulsors abruptly shut off without his command, sending him plummeting toward the ocean below him. Not for the first time, he wondered why he even bothered to install a remote kill switch in his workshop for his suit.

Minutes of attempting to swim back to the shore later (to no avail), his systems were back online, allowing him to return home. He staggered through the entrance for the garage, muting JARVIS after a remark about how there are more dignified ways to die than by your own girlfriend's hands. Or finger, in this case. He dropped the waterlogged helmet onto his work table, grinning guiltily at an annoyed Pepper.

"So ah, what did you want me to look over again?"

She still didn't look amused. In fact, she was pointing at his helmet now. Or rather, she was pointing at a pile of contracts he was supposed to sign- oh. This wasn't going well now, was it? Pepper turned on her heels, heading for the door. He hadn't even removed the suit yet, his metallic boot making clunking noises as he chased after her.

"I'm so sorry Pepper, you know I'm addicted to flying and I couldn't help it, well it's better than drinkin-"

Without warning, Pepper stopped in her tracks, turned and kissed him on the lips in one smooth movement. It was a quickie, as he liked to call it. Not too intimate, yet it leaves him wanting so much more.

"Make it up to me upstairs, then we'll talk."

As she went up to the bedroom, Tony quickly stripped himself of his beloved suit. After being in a relationship with Pepper for a couple of months, he was getting addicted to her company. He'll be damned if he had to give up his nights with her to fly.

… Curse _both_ of his addictions.


End file.
